


Valentine

by eikyuuyuki



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Sad, proposal ring, with an open ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 13:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3652452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eikyuuyuki/pseuds/eikyuuyuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Elven King's heart and soul were forever bound to this land. Thranduil stayed after everyone had left Middle Earth. He lived by the forest and went to visit Thorin's grave whenever he had time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the Valentine fic I've talked about. It is sequel to Proposal Ring. But you can understand it well without reading the previous. But if you have time, I'd be happy if you read both. I have plan to develop this story as you'll see the end isn't satisfied at all. Haha. 
> 
> Again, please forgive every spelling or grammar mistakes in this work. Hope you guy enjoy it.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters in this fic belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I own nothing but the story below.

Thranduil would never see the sea. He would never know what was beyond the ocean. Though his only son had set sail to the sea and each group of his kin left Middle Earth one by one, he still stayed here, watching this land changing over time. This land had become the land of Human. They expanded, developed, and separated lands. They built nations and cultures. They created and invented things. And they forgot. Human had forgotten the old world. That world, to them, was only stories for children; they were legend, folktales. Sometimes, Thranduil read these stories and couldn't help laughing because of what they wrote.

 

 

Like now, he was reading the Encyclopedia of Mystical Creatures. It described his race as some kind of short person whose pointed ears and green skin. He wanted to read about the Dwarves but the sudden sound from the clock stopped him.

 

Clock.

 

Human invented it to calculate time. Thranduil often wondered if they could invent something that could measure the time of separated souls. But for what? Just non-sense thinking. Thranduil shook his head, walked to the coat stand, took the coat there and left the house, bringing with him the book he was reading. He headed to the forest once named Mirkwood.

 

After centuries, the forest still looked unchanged. Every tree trunk, stream, flower, creature lived in the forest, even the stone path his people had built were still there. People didn't rebuild it and he silently thanked them for that. No matter how much the outside world had changed, the forest still maintained its atmosphere from the old days.. His magnificent palace was still laid above the river flowing to the pond. But after everyone had left, the lonely and solitude drove him crazy. So he locked the door, hid it away by spell and moved to the border of the forest. Thranduil would forever be a woodland elf, who could not live far from the tree. It was the only thing left that could ease his ancient mind.

 

But what about his heart?

 

The heart that suffered too many wounds, filled with longing, forever lied deep inside the grave at the center of the forest, Thorin’s grave.

 

After the last dwarf left Erebor, Thranduil moved Thorin here so that he could take care of it easily. He put what left of the Dwarf together with Orcrist into the coffin, buried it in the woodland ground and planted an oak near there. On beautiful days, he usually sat under the tree, speaking as if Thorin was sitting right beside him. He told Thorin about things happened around the world, about every interesting, weird and silly invention of Human. Some days, he brought a book and read for Thorin. Other days, he brought wine as an excuse as he drowned himself in sorrow. No matter how many years had passed, the memory of the battle was still vivid in his mind and kept haunting him when the snow began to fall.

 

Thranduil stopped at the door to the wood. There once stood an archway made of crossing branches, a table made of stone and a female elf statue. Now, only a broken stone pedestal left with interlacing liana. He lifted his head to look at the far above branches, remembered when the forest was covered in darkness filled with death and gloominess. Now they were all green. He wished Thorin could see not the dark forest which was full of spells, in which he was lost, but the vital forest Thranduil once loved. He wished he could have a walk with the Dwarf when all the leaves turned red and the smell of ripen cherry floated in the air.

 

He took off his shoes and entered the forest. Thranduil had never walked there with his shoes on. The ground underneath his feet was no strange to him. He had lived here long enough to know exactly where to put his feet and where not to. He imagined Thorin would growl if he asked the Dwarf to walk barefoot. Thorin would shoot him a cautious look as if he was planning to harm him by a broken tree branch or poisonous mushroom or something like that. He would cock his head, inclined it and narrowed his eyes. The discreet look always made him smile. Thorin's blue eyes bore a resemblance to the water surface in winter but they were warm like the sun in summer.

 

 

That day on Raven Hill, every one cried for Thorin but none of them had enough strength to close his eyes. He was the one who did it. Thranduil held Thorin's body in silence when a young dwarf ran after him, grabbed at his cloak, and didn’t let him take the fallen king away. The young boy cried, yelling that Thorin hadn't die yet and begged Thranduil to save him then cursed him, claimed him to be cold-hearted. Thranduil swallowed every word like a sharp knife piercing into his already open wound. He closed his eyes, suppressed any feeling and walked pass the Company.

 

 

"If I had been there with you." Thranduil looked at the grave, tried to forget the lifeless, white eyes. "How many times have I said this? Sorry if I make you feel bored."

 

 

Thranduil forced a smile on his face, stretched his hand to clear the leaves and weeds growing on the grave. He cleaned it then sat down by the oak tree. He opened the book and continued to read, then stopped when he reached the Dwarves part.

 

"Listen, Thorin. Listen to how Human describes your race!" His face lit up, his voice shown sign of excitement just like a kid who just discovered some mischievous trick.

 

"Dwarves are about 60 centimeters height, with very long hair and beard. They live underground, love gold and all kind of jewel. Their favorite food is underground creatures such as worm." Thranduil burst into a laugh. "Worm... Hahah..."

 

He bent his body and laughed until he could not produce any voice. "Oh Thorin... And you used to claim I am a filthy Elf... Hahaha... If you were here, the author of this book would know what a real dwarf is. Right?"

 

Thranduil lifted his face, the smile still bright on his face. Then it faded because only silence answered him.

 

 

Then Thranduil realized how quiet this forest was. It was freshly green and just green. In the past, though it was haunted by the dark, the part which he ruled always lively. Thranduil was called the Party King for a reason. He loved music, dancing and good wine. The parties he hosted lasted for days. The light, the laugh echoed to the farthest border of the wood.

 

Now, the forest existed but lived. The trunk here, the flower there, the owl on the branch, the squirrel in his hole... They are there just because they had to be there. No purpose. No desire. Just like him.

 

 

"This author should have added one more thing..." Thranduil said. "Dwarves are cruel..."

 

Thranduil breathed in, his shoulder gave a small shudder as if he was controlling the anger.

 

"Especially your Durin's folks..."

 

Thranduil took a small bag carried the symbol of Erebor out of his shirt. Inside the bag was a silver ring, adorned with a blue sapphire that assembled the color of his eyes. There were patterns of the forest, of interlacing branches on the ring. He looked at the beautiful craft and remembered how it came to him and tied him to this lonely life.

 

 

After Thorin's funeral, Balin asked for a private talk with him. He hesitated with his shaking hands, and then he gave Thranduil the bag with the ring inside. _"This was what he always wanted to give you."_ Thranduil surprised, turned to the old dwarf then he came to understand when he saw a small writing in Khuzdul carved inside the ring. _"Amralime."_ All of his feeling which had been suppressed back to Raven Hill suddenly poured out. He could not hold back his tears. He held the ring, pressed it tightly to his chest, called Thorin's name silently and cursed in Elvish. Thranduil had never cried that much since his father passed away. For the first time in hundreds of years, Thranduil forgot his position as a King to cry for his love.

 

After that he could not cry anymore. Now, tears just ran freely on his cheeks. He would not stop them when he felt tired or in special occasion such as today.

 

 

"Today is February 14, Human call it Valentine Day. In this day, lovers often give present to the each other, and the common gift is chocolate. And look what I found at the candy store."

Thranduil pulled out a present from his pocket. He opened it and took out a small chocolate piece in a shape of an axe.

"It isn't your symbol but it was the closest I can find."

 

 

All of sudden, he heard a foot step approaching. As soon as he lifted his head, Thranduil was dumbstruck. The chocolate was dropped to the ground. He could not move while his left chest was in deep, unbearable pain. So much pain that the tears falling from his eyes. But it wasn't for the sadness but the happiness, or the mixture of both.

"Thorin Oakenshield". Thranduil shook his head. "You really are cruel."

 

 End.


End file.
